


One Last Taste

by griseldalafey



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Heart Attack, New York, the oblivious variety, woobiness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-22 14:14:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4838252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/griseldalafey/pseuds/griseldalafey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After their relationship has come to an end, circumstances force Belle and Gold to spend one more week in each other’s company. Gold believes this week is one last taste of what being with her is like and is determined to make as many memories as possible before he has to let her go.  <br/>But perhaps Belle isn’t ready to close the book just yet…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mysticknightofscotland](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Mysticknightofscotland).



> This is my RCIJ gift for Mysticknightofscotland. Her prompts were: Honeymoon in New York, heart attack, grandpastiltskin  
> You might recognize the first four bits, those are teaser drabbles that I've posted on Tumblr in that past weeks.

Seven months… 214 days… 5136 hours… Since the moment she had walked out of his house and out of his life he had been counting. First the hours, then the days, then the weeks and now the months, desperately clinging to his belief that one day, after an allotted amount of hours had passed it would finally stop hurting so keenly.

That his heart would no longer clench painfully when he crawled into a bed that felt too large and too cold.

That he would be able to throw away her blouse, the one single thing he had left of her, the one he’d found at the bottom of his hamper the day after he had driven her away and that smelled a little less like her with every day that passed, until her scent had faded completely.

That he stopped hoping she’d come back, that her stubbornness was stronger than his cruel words.

That his heart no longer skipped a beat when the bell above his shop jingled, only to be bitterly disappointed when the next desperate soul wandered inside.

That his throat wouldn’t go raw every time he passed the closed library.

That he could let her go.

* * *

 

For their wedding venue, Neal and Emma had chosen a lovely Edwardian hotel in the center of Manhattan. From his spot at one of the draped tables, Gold watched how Neal, Emma and 11-year old Henry performed their ‘family dance’, their own, quirky version of a wedding dance. His son was happy, happier than he’d ever seen him and his grandson had been beaming all day.   
There was a deep, genuine glow settling in the pit of his stomach, warming him more than the glass of Scotch he was currently nursing.

Still he felt the bitter sting of regret even more sharply than ever before. Seeing his family happy and content provided him with a joy he had rarely experienced before in his lifetime, but at the same time it accentuated all the more painfully how empty his own life had become.

To have her sitting next to him now, wearing one of her curve-hugging, tantalizing dresses that never failed to make his mouth go dry.  To see the love he craved so deeply reflected in her eyes. To have a bit of family to hold on to, now that his son was creating his own.

If only.

* * *

 

It happened right after Neal made his speech. As the evening progressed, he’d begun to feel increasingly unsteady.  The air in the room became stuffed and oppressive until it felt like something heavy was sitting on his chest, constricting him.

At first he’d blamed the packed room, then the third Scotch he’d thumped down. By the time Neal was talking, he could barely focus on his son’s words, streams of cold sweat running down his temples.

Bursts of pain shot up his right arm and he’d known then and than that something was terribly wrong. But it couldn’t happening, not now, not tonight. After everything they’d been through together, the silence, the alienation, the shouting matches and eventually the tentative reconciliation, he wasn’t going to jeopardize everything by dying in the middle of Emma and Neal’s wedding and in front of his grandson.

He was going to be fine. He’d take care of Henry for the next ten days while Neal and Emma went on their honeymoon and once he’d return to Storybrooke, he’d visit his doctor and start a healthier diet.

But there would be none of that right now.

Gasping for breath the world around him went black.

* * *

 

When he woke, Gold first became aware of a respiratory tube that was attached to his nose. His limbs felt uncommonly heavy, as if his veins were felt with lead, there was an odd sort of ache in his chest and for some reason he was clothed in an uncomfortable, paper gown.

The hospital, his brain registered. That must be were he was now.

Somewhere amidst the darkness he heard her voice and with everything that was in him, he tried to hold on to it.  The soft Australian lithe sounded so close, so real that his stomach twisted painfully.

The urge to open his eyes was almost too much, but he resisted the impulse, knowing that as soon as he did that, the dream would shatter.  

Because Belle wasn’t here. Because he had driven her away and even if she knew about his condition, she probably wouldn’t care anymore.

So her voice couldn’t be real, nor could the hand that he felt caressing his hair be. And the whiff of scent that caught in his nostrils, roses and vanilla, was nothing more than a fidget of his own, sad imagination.

Keeping his eyes closed, he dreamed a little longer.  

* * *

 

 When he awoke for the second time he was more aware of his surroundings. Soft voices were talking on his left and he recognized his son’s instantly.  With some difficulty he turned his head and opened his eyes, blinking against the harsh lights of the hospital room.

“Neal…?” To his vexation, his voice sounded hoarse and weak and the attempt to speak his son’s name instantly drained him of the little energy he had.

“Papa!” Instantly Neal hovered over the bed, tired, bloodshot eyes taking him in.

“The hell… happened?” Gold managed to wheeze out.

“You collapsed,” Neal told him. “One moment you were sitting, the next you were clutching your chest and falling. We couldn’t get you to wake up, no matter what we tried. So you were rushed into the hospital and according to the cardiologist you had a mild heart attack.”

Mortification caused the blood in his veins to run cold. “Sorry… for ruining your wedding…”

“Nah,” Neal waved his apology away, relief making his face split into an ear-to-ear grin. “It could have been worse… at least you held off until after we had made our vows. It would have been a too dramatic ‘I object’… even for you…”

For a second his son’s flippancy managed to squeeze a breathless chuckle out of him, but then Gold remembered and his heart sank once again.  “Your honeymoon… I’ve messed up your plans… what day is it?”

“It’s Wednesday,” Neal told him. “You’ve been in here for a little over a day now… you were pretty out of it… kept hallucinating for a while. It was only last night that you calmed down… when your specially requested visitor arrived.”

A hazy, blurry memory of Belle’s voice floated back into his mind, but Gold firmly squashed down the burst of hope that flickered up inside his heart.   
 “What specially requested visitor?”

“Hello Rumford.”

The voice that reached his ears was so clear and so near that his head snapped to the other side instantly, his eyes going wide with shock.

“B-Belle…?” he rasped.   
Barely able to believe his eyes, he allowed himself to drink her in. Seven months of not seeing her now felt like a lifetime and although he had meticulously attempted to remember every single detail about her but now that she was in front of him, his clearest memories paled in comparison.   
Her eyes were more vibrantly blue than he could ever commit to memory and he’d completely forgotten just how much her dark curls contrasted against her porcelain skin.

“What are you doing here?” The exertion it caused him to speak made the words sound far harsher than he’d intended them and he winched as he watched her posture became more rigid.

_“Right…_ ” Neal started from the other side of his bed, eyes darting between the two of them, his posture screaming discomfort.  “I’m gonna call Emma and Henry… I’m sure they’d like to hear the happy news… Be back in a sec…”   
As he was talking he was slowly inching towards the door and almost bolted outside as soon as he’d finished speaking.

His exit barely registered with Gold who was still gazing at Belle like he couldn’t believe his eyes. “When did you get here?”

To his immense relief his voice had returned more or less to normal and although Belle still refused to properly look at him, at least she sat down in one of the uncomfortable, plastic chairs again.

“I got here last night, Neal called me…” she told him, folding her hands tightly into her lap.

“I thought I heard you voice,” he said quietly. “But I thought I was dreaming… I’m glad you’re here though…”

And he was, he truly was. Even though it didn’t change anything between them, even if she was still infinitely better off without him, he was grateful for her presence.

Gradually his memories returned. The way the room had closed in on him, enfolding him with darkness while stabs of white-hot pain were tearing his chest apart. Blurry, fractured memories of floating in and out of consciousness afterwards, feeling cold, helpless and utterly alone, panic clawing at him.   
But then she’d been there, calling his name, calling him back, urging him to return.

“Neal said you were hallucinating and saying my name,” Belle continued, answering the question he didn’t dare to ask. “He asked me to come… the doctors thought it might calm you down. When I came into your room last night, you were tossing and turning, calling out for me… but when I touched your face… you calmed down almost instantly…”

She finally looked up to meet his eyes again, but now he felt like looking away, feeling a hundred times more vulnerable and exposed than when he woke up to find himself lying in a hospital bed, hooked to machines and dressed in a gown.

“I needed you…” he managed to rasp eventually. “So much…”

“Did you now?” She was looking fully at him, her eyes large and filled with hurt. “Because seven months ago you were _so_ adamant that you wanted to be free of me.” Her words cut through him like little else could, even though he knew how right she was.

“You said you didn’t want me anymore,” she continued mercilessly. “That your power and your position in town meant more to you than I did… that you’d never choose them over me.”

He winched as every single one of her words hit him like a whip lash would. When he had at last reached the decision that it would be better for her if he ended their relationship, he had at first tried to persuade her that she’d be far better off without him.   
When she had looked at him as if he’d grown an extra head and protested vehemently against that notion, he’d been forced to try a different, far more crueler approach by telling her that she didn’t mean as much to him as he’d let her to believe.

The words had tasted like ash on his mouth, bile rising in his throat with every lie he had sprouted. But he had been so desperate at the time, so determined to make her see him for the monster that he was - the monster she would eventually discover if she stayed.

But it hadn’t been until he’d hurled at her that his power would always mean more to him than she would that he’d seen something break in her eyes. In that moment she had looked at him as if she was truly seeing a monster and watching the love and tenderness she felt for him die in her eyes had almost destroyed him.

‘It was better this way’, he had told himself as she’d walked out of the home they’d shared since a couple of weeks, slamming the door behind her.

'This way, I can no longer hurt her,' he had tried to convince himself, even as he’d sunk down to the floor, his legs no longer able to support his weight and he’d reached out helplessly, his hands clawing at thin air because she wasn’t there anymore.

And now she was back again. But seeing the coldness in her eyes and hearing the angry note of fury in her voice made him realize they’d never been further apart than in this moment.

“And then I come in here to find you pleading for me… begging me to come back, to not to leave you…”

His insides burned with mortification upon hearing her words. He could just imagine the picture he’d made the night before. A pathetic, sniveling, groveling coward, desperately clinging to the little happiness he knew he would find in this life.  It was no wonder she was looking at him now as if she despised him.

“So which one is it, Rum?” she demanded relentlessly. “Because you either prefer your power over me or you do want to be with me!”

The silence that filled the room after her words was a ringing one and he struggled to come up with a reply, to even form a coherent thought.

“Belle… I…” he managed, trying to take a deep breath as his chest constricted painfully once more. “I never meant to… I just…”  

As he was struggling and groping around for the words, he watched with an increasing sense of panic how her face fell and she got to her feet, her shoulders slumped dejectedly.

“Never mind I suppose…”

“No! _Belle!_ ”

And suddenly the words poured out of him. “I love you, Belle… I think I’ve always loved you, since the moment I first met you… I need you… Not just right now, but always… you are my strength, you bring out the best in me… no one else can do that. You’re my light and I’m lost without you…”

“Then why did you end our relationship?” she cried at him, big, angry tears falling on her cheeks.

“Because you deserve something better!” he shot back, his own voice rising. “You keep insisting that I’m a good man, but I’m _not_ … and you would find that out eventually…”

“Rum, I know you!” she answered tearfully. “I know you snarl and lash out… I know you sometimes let your anger get the better of you, but I knew what I was getting into! I wasn’t going to pull back.”

“But I made you do just that,” he answered sadly. “I made you leave…”

“Only because you made me feel like I wasn’t enough for you…” Her words broke on a quiet sob, revealing a world of pain and what was left of his heart shattered along with it.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart…” he said softly. “I wanted to protect you from getting hurt… I wanted what was best for you…”

At that her head shot up, her eyes blazing with anger once more.

“So you tried to decide for me?” she demanded. “You don’t get to decided my fate, Rumford! You don’t get to decide how I feel… only I do!”

“I’m sorry…” he repeated, the gravity of what he’d done, of the sheer stupidity of what he’d orchestrated hitting him fully for the first time.

This time she did get to her feet and stalked towards the door.

“Belle!” he tried, pushing himself up on his elbows, resenting his weak, treacherous body.

She stopped in the doorway without looking back at him. “I need to think, Rum…”

And then she was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

The doctor that stopped by his bed an hour later came with good news. His heart attack had only been a minor one and since the monitor had shown no irregularities since he’d been admitted, he would be discharged from the hospital later that afternoon with a prescription for some anticoagulants and a stern warning to visit his own doctor once he returned home.

He was only half listening to what the man was saying, his mind still reeling from his conversation with Belle.   
In many ways, it felt like losing her all over again. But this time he couldn’t comfort himself with the knowledge that at least he was acting in her best interest, that the pain he was feeling was because he was saving her.

Belle didn’t need saving from him and his actions had resulted into the very thing that he’d feared most: Belle no longer wanted him.

She had loved him, truly and genuinely loved him and he had thrown that love back in her face and trampled it until it had wilted and died.   
He, who had never believed that anyone could love him, had found the purest, deepest love he could probably find on this earth and he had been too blind and too stupid to see it. And what was worse, he had hurt Belle. He had let her believe that she wasn’t enough, that somehow the magnificent gift of her love had fallen short.

It was irony of the cruelest kind: he hadn’t truly been a monster, until he had tried to protect his love from it.

And now there was no hope for reconciliation. He would return to Storybrooke, Belle would go back to Boston and Neal and Emma would stay here with Henry, all thoughts of honeymooning gone.

So when the afternoon rolled by and the door to his room opened to reveal not only his son, daughter in law and grandson, but also Belle, he was more than a little surprised.

Belle wasn’t looking directly at him, her posture straight and tense and although he had expected nothing less, it still caused a painful pang near his heart.

“Neal, I’ve been thinking,” he started, having already practiced the words a million times inside his head. “There really is no reason why you and Emma can’t go on your honeymoon as planned. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of Henry and if you leave tonight you still have a week together.”

Neal looked at him as if he’d managed to set water aflame and Emma was quick to back him up.   
“Gold, you just suffered a heart-attack. If you honestly think we’re leaving Henry with you while you’re still recuperating, you have another thing coming…”

“It was only a very mild heart-attack,” he protested. “They’ve given me some pills… I’ll be fine!”

“I can keep an eye on grandpa too,” Henry interjected. “If anything happens I’ll call immediately.”

“We’ll be all the way in Tallahassee,” Neal groaned, rubbing his face. “I’m inclined to agree with Emma, the risks are just too great, so shortly after your spell.”

“If it would ease your mind, I could stay as well,” Belle offered suddenly, making the entire room go quiet. “I have a couple of vacation days left,” she explained, coloring slightly when she felt all eyes on her. “I think you should go ahead and have your honeymoon. I don’t think Rumford will have another episode, but I’ll stick around just in case.”

Gold was suddenly grateful for the fact that a nurse had disconnected him from the heart-monitor earlier that afternoon, otherwise the machine would have been beeping like a car alarm by now with the way his heart racing.   
Belle was offering to stay with him for a week. He couldn’t even begin to understand her reasoning, but it was of no matter. As long as he was offered the chance to win her back, he would grasp it with both hands.

Neal was still blinking in surprise, but eventually managed to say: “It would be a perfect solution if you’re willing… pappa, what do you say?”

“Just perfect,” he agreed emphatically, keeping his eyes trained on Belle.

But when she looked up to meet his eyes, his heart sank at the guarded, cold look in her eyes.   
“This doesn’t change anything between us, Rumford,” she told him quietly, but with a note of steel in her voice. “But Neal and Emma deserve to go on their honeymoon… and I’ve always wanted to see New York.”

And as realization set in, he gave a defeated nod.   
 Belle no longer loved him. Whatever there had been between them, he had managed to ruin it thoroughly. She was simply doing Neal a favor, as the two of them had been as thick as thieves since the moment he’d introduced them to each other. He knew how much she’d wanted to visit New York.

He’d planned on taking her there one day, but somehow his plans always got postponed.  Too much work to be done, too many deals to be made… and in the end he had never gotten around to do it.

If only he had one more chance to do things the right way.

But he was out of chances, Belle had made that abhorrently clear. He had one more week to enjoy her company.

One last week to say goodbye.

* * *

 

And so the next day he found himself at Neal and Emma’s small, industrial Manhattan apartment together with Henry and Belle, while the newlyweds were off to enjoy what was left of their honeymoon in Tallahassee.

The matter of dividing the available beds had been the subject of a brief, but very intense discussion. Henry was of course occupying his own room, but Belle had insisted he’d take the master bedroom and that she was perfectly comfortable on the sofa bed.   
Everything inside him rebelled against this ungentlemanly notion, but Belle had been unyielding in her conviction.  Their brief argument only increased the already tense atmosphere between them and by the time the afternoon rolled around he was wondering desperately what the hell he’d been thinking agreeing to this arrangement.

Belle barely looked at him and couldn’t be persuaded to speak two words together to him. Instead she avoided him and divided her time between Henry and the small shipment of books she’d brought.    
The straight line of her shoulders and small frown between her eyebrows told him exactly how upset she was with him and he kept wondering what on earth had possessed her to offer to stay.

Her withdrawal hurt, even more so because it was so completely the opposite of how she’d been when they’d still been together.  Belle had loved him unconditionally and whole-heartedly and now that she was keeping herself back from him, he realized fully just how much.   
When they’d been together she’d touched him constantly. Warm hugs that instantly managed to melt away the tension that was always coiling in his body, soft brushes of her hands to affirm her affection and gentle, teasing fingers carding through his hair, never failing to make him dizzy with longing for her.

Before he’d driven her away she had always looked at him with gentle, loving eyes. Eyes that told him without words just how much he was cared for, how much she adored him. At the time he had never stopped to appreciate her signs of affection fully, to preoccupied as he’d been with proving himself worthy of her by becoming more powerful, more significant, more impressive, more… of anything than he was.   
He’d always been chasing after the man he’d wanted to be for her, the man he felt she deserved and in the process he’d never really stopped to see her.

But now that she no longer loved him, he’d sell his soul to have her smile her warm, loving smile at him one more time.

* * *

 

The second day became marginally better as their visit to the New York Public Library provided them with a much needed distraction. He had dreamed of showing Belle the place and despite everything he was grateful to get the chance to do so after all.

All the way from the subway to the library, Belle and Henry - who was as much of an avid reader as she was - talked each other’s ears off about the books they were going to look up and the sections they wanted to browse and he followed them quietly, reveling in their excitement.  

One of the things he loved so much about her was the way she’d instantly accepted and cared for his family. He knew Neal was very fond of her and once he’d found out that Gold was responsible for their break-up, his son had wasted no breath in telling him what his opinions on the subject were.

Belle and Henry had hit it off right from the start as well, the teen calling her ‘grandma’ becoming something of a running gag between the two of them.

Once they stepped inside the imposing Rose main reading room the both of them gasped in awe, falling silent in view of the endless rows of bookcases on hardwood floors and gleaming chandeliers.  Turning on her heels, Belle twirled around slowly, taking in the vastness of the room, her eyes wide with admiration.

“Look at the ceiling,” he pointed out gently, calling her attention to the painting, feeling ridiculously pleased when she craned her neck at once, trying to take in as much of the art as she could.

“It’s magnificent,” she breathed before turning around to look at him, her face beaming, their estrangement momentarily forgotten and for a long moment he couldn’t quite remember how to breathe.

As she reverently ran the tips of her fingers across the spine of the first book within her reach, Henry chuckled quietly.   
 “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her look so happy!”

Privately he had to agree and the relief he felt at that was indescribable. Belle deserved to be happy always and once upon a time he had striven to be the person who made her so, until he had failed so spectacularly at that. Seeing her so tense and withdrawn in the last couple of days was just another testament of the pain he’d caused her.   
To see her smiling now, her eyes wide with delight as she roamed the space eased a little of his guilt.  

Determined not to burst her happy bubble, he kept quiet, only occasionally offering tidbits of information and interesting details, feeling pleased that he had bothered to thoroughly read through he extensive website the evening before.

As the afternoon progressed, Belle began to respond more and more to his comments until he began to feel actually included in their conversation.  Even Henry appeared to be picking up on this, if his occasional grins towards his grandfather were any indication.

Their new-found openness carried all the way through their dinner at a small Italian restaurant and even if the awkwardness between them was still tangible, he was grateful at least that the air of coldness that’d hung around her had disappeared.

* * *

 

Before Gold had agreed to come to New York during Neal and Emma’s honeymoon, Henry had asked him to teach him how to play chess.  In the month prior to the wedding he’d come across a well-preserved, handsomely decorated chess-set and he had brought it with him to New York as a present.

During their week he spend many hours every evening teaching Henry the rules and tactics of the game and to his pleasure he quickly discovered that Henry was a very eager and quick student and within three evenings he actually had to step up his game to keep up with the boy.

In the midst of the heartbreak and the strain between him and Belle, spending time with his grandson was the one bright spot of the week. Henry reminded him so much of Neal when he’d been around the same age and the bound between them had still been strong and close. Henry was more competitive than Neal had ever been and Gold was inclined to attribute that particular character trait to his mother. But at the same time there was an innate goodness and decency in the boy that filled him with pride and affection.

While they were playing chess, Belle was usually curled up on the couch, engrossed in one of the many books she’d brought along and sometimes when he dared to look up from the chess board he met her eyes and the soft, almost wistful expression in them. Even though there was a sad tinge to her smile at those times, there was a warmth and tenderness there as well and at those moments he almost felt content.


	3. Chapter 3

The nights were by far the hardest.

Sleep eluded him most of the time and as he lay awake in the pitch dark, staring at the ceiling, the full consequences of his transgressions plagued his thoughts.

He was an idiot. A complete and utter fool.

For months and months he had told himself that ultimately he had done the right thing by breaking things off with her. He was protecting her from the hurt and pain that would inevitably come should she stay with him. He was protecting her from himself.   
In his delusions, he had fancied himself to be her hero, saving her from the monster that was also him. And even long after their break-up and during the long, lonely months of missing her, he had persevered in believing that.

It wasn’t until this week in New York that he realized how self-serving and presumptuous he had been.

_“I knew what I was getting into! I wasn’t going to pull back!”_   
Her words at the hospital tormented him in those dark hours as he was forced to face how utterly stupid and cruel he had been. Instead of keeping her from getting hurt, he had purposely caused her a world of pain.

Because despite giving the impression of being her cheerful, happy self, it took him little effort to look beyond that farce. She was quieter, more subdued. When he caught her at an unguarded moment her gaze was pensive, her eyes having lost their sparkle. She’d lost weight and all together their was an air of sadness around her that had never been there before.

Only now he could admit to himself that it wasn’t so much her he had been trying to protect as well as himself. Being with Belle was too good to be true and he had never truly believed that he was meant to have so much happiness. He had always known it would come to an end and so eventually he had ruined it himself.

Being with her these last days was both heaven and hell because it was a constant reminder of what he would never have again and how good it had been.

In only two more days Neal and Emma would come back and Belle would return to Boston while he would go back to Storybrooke.   
He hadn’t realized it up until now, but in the months before his heart-attack, there had always been a small part of him stubbornly hoping that one day she would come back to him.    
That she would appear in his pawnshop or on the porch of the pink house to tell him that they weren’t over yet.

He would argue and insist, but in the end he’d be helpless to withstand her and he’d have her back again.

Now he knew how foolish these fantasies were. Belle had made it perfectly clear that as far as she was concerned their relationship was well and truly over.

When he returned to Storybrooke in two days time he would most likely never see her again.

* * *

 

Unable to stay any longer inside the warm and suffocating room, he got out of the bed and slowly crept towards to kitchen to fetch a glass of water. Careful not to make a single sound he made his way past the sofa bed were he could just make out Belle’s sleeping form in the dark, curled up in a small ball.

For a few moments his throat went dry and his heart ached painfully with regret.   
He longed to crawl into the bed beside her, curl his body around hers and wrap her up in his arms, basking in her warmth and softness.

He’d sell his soul just to have one more night with her.   
One more night to show her how much he loved her, over and over again, until he had erased all the pain and hurt his selfish actions had caused her.    
One more night to hold her close and tell her how beautiful she was, how special. How much he loved her and how happy she had made him.    
And how deeply and heartfelt sorry he was for destroying all of that.

Swallowing with difficulty he headed for the kitchen, intending to pour himself a glass of water in the dark and return to his bedroom, leaving her undisturbed when suddenly a light switched on and he froze in his tracks.

“Rumford?” came a sleepy, hoarse voice.

“I’m sorry,” he rasped as he turned around, his heart sinking. Waking her up in the middle of the night and disturbing her sleep would do little to make her more kindly inclined towards him.   
Nevertheless he took in the sight of her sitting up in the bed, dressed in a soft yellow, rumpled shirt and with her messy curls spilling over her shoulders with hungry eyes, carefully filing it away.

One more memory for him to treasure after this week was over.

“I couldn’t sleep… I was going to get some water…” he explained lamely.

“Oh…” Instantly worry filled her eyes. “Are you all right? Is your heart giving you trouble? Is your chest hurting?”

“No, nothing like that,” he reassured her quickly. “It’s just… I never sleep well in an unfamiliar place.”

He hadn’t been sleeping well in the past seven months period, but that was neither here nor there.

“I’m sorry for waking you up.”

“That’s all right,” she answered, swinging her legs out of the bed. “I have trouble sleeping here too.”

The words cut, even though she probably didn’t intended them to be reproving. Still, it made perfect sense. For her this week and spending so much time around a man she must now dislike deeply had to be a very unpleasant chore.

“How about I make us some tea?” she offered, the suggestion leaving him so shocked that he could only nod.

He watched as she shrugged into a robe and put the kettle on before preparing two mugs. If she noticed his blatant staring she gave no indication and only after she handed him a steaming mug minutes later she looked up at him and asked: “How are you feeling after your heart-attack? Honestly?”

There was so much genuine concern in her blue eyes that he was helpless to respond with anything than the truth.

“It scared me to death,” he confessed quietly, a shudder running through at the memory of how helpless he’d felt, collapsing to the ground, his body failing him.   
“All my life I’ve tried to control everything. To manipulate everything into doing what I wanted…”   
His lips gave a bitter twist. “Well, you know that better than anyone. And suddenly… none of it matters anymore if your heart decides it’s been enough…”

“It does put things into perspective,” she agreed softly and to his wonder he noticed that her eyes were suspiciously bright. Chalking it up to the lateness of the hour, he nodded.

“It did make me realize what’s truly important. My son and Emma… Henry…” He held her gaze until she dropped it, a slight blush spreading across her face.  
“Well, it made me realize at lot of things…”

When she made no reply, his stomach churned. This must be the road to madness… clinging desperately to a dream that would never become a reality anymore. With a shaking hand he brought the mug to his lips and swallowed its burning contents down in one go.

“At least the doctors told me I’ve been lucky,” he said in a forced cheerful tone of voice. “Apparently it was only a very mild heart attack.”

Probably brought on by months of stress and sleepless nights, too little food because he couldn’t be bothered to eat and too much Scotch on an empty stomach. Best if she didn’t know anything about that though.

“That’s good!” she answered, looking noticeably relieved. “You’ll be perfectly all right again then, won’t you?”

He wouldn’t, but that wasn’t the point, so he grimaced. “So it would seem. Like always, a bad penny will always turn up.”

“Oh shush,” she admonished him, swatting his arm and for a brief second his skin burned where she had touched him. “You just need to take better care of yourself. I dare to wager you haven’t been eating properly, don’t think I haven’t noticed.

It was on the tip of his tongue to point out that he’d noticed she was definitely looking skinnier as well, but he held back. It was no longer his place to do so. Even though he just wanted to fuss over her and pamper her to his heart’s content, he had given up that right when he’d pushed her away. She wouldn't appreciate such comments from him now, even though his own, treacherous heart glowed from her little display of concern.

“Thank you for the tea,” he said eventually. “I’m going to try and catch a few hours of sleep after all.

She nodded with an unidentifiable look in her eyes, one that send an uneasy thrill through him because he just couldn’t quite make it out.

“Sweet dreams, Rumford.”

As he limbed back to his bedroom, he tried to commit every moment of their encounter to his memory, hoarding it like a treasure.

They only had one more day left. There wouldn’t be many more opportunities.


	4. Chapter 4

On the last day they visited the Empire State Building. Henry was beyond excited to see it and Gold was happy to let his grandson’s excited chatter fill the silences since he could no longer muster the energy to do it.

The fact that this was their last day together, that after they’d said their goodbyes tomorrow he would most likely never see her again, weighted like a heavy stone in his stomach.

Twenty-four hours… minutes that were ticking by, each of them faster than the previous one.

A haze of misery surrounded him, one that was only somewhat penetrated by things like Henry’s joy at finally climbing one of the most defining features of the New York skyline, or the way Belle casually linked her arm through his as they walked through the marble halls and watched the exhibition of the building process.

The view from the top was extraordinary and despite everything, he couldn’t help enjoy watching two of the people he cared so much about reveling in the experience. He tried to soak up every detail of this last, joyous moment, from the way Henry tried to photograph every single landmark he could spot to the way Belle kept squeezing his hand, her eyes wide and shining with wonder.

Even before the heart attack, his family had been the most important thing in the world to him, but somehow he had always managed to do just those things that caused the most harm to what he loved best. The power and control that he craved were only means to keep them safe, but by trying to hang on to that he had lost everything.

Bright sunlight spilled from behind the clouds, bathing them in warm light. One last, perfect, golden day in the sun. Closing his fingers around Belle’s hand and tugging her closer, he listened to Henry’s voice and for a while he just held his family close.

* * *

 

The last evening came. Henry went to bed early and he sat down on the sofa that would later that night be converted into Belle’s bed for the last time, resting his aching ankle from the exertions of the day.

“He’s out like a light,” Belle told him upon re-entering the room after checking on the teen.

“He really enjoyed himself today,” he agreed quietly, noticing to his surprise that she settled herself on the couch next to him, her feet tucked underneath her.

“It really was a wonderful day,” Belle answered, her voice soft and wistful. “The whole week was, as a matter of fact.”

Her words caused his heart to stop for a moment before it started to hammer in his chest.  
“Do you mean that?” he asked breathlessly, barely daring to believe his ears.

“I do,” she replied earnestly, lifting her eyes to his. “I had a wonderful time, Rumford.”

"I’m glad,” he murmured quietly, a little of the hurt inside him easing somewhat at her words. He could never make things right, he could never undo what he had caused, but at least in the past week he had somehow managed to make things marginally better.

“Belle…” he started with difficulty. “I… I just… wanted to thank you for what you did this week. If it hadn’t been for you, Neal and Emma wouldn’t have gone on their honeymoon and left Henry in my care… and I would have hated for them to miss out on it on my account or to miss out on spending time with my grandson… I know the past week mustn’t have been easy for you… considering everything that has happened between us, but I am grateful that you offered to stay… so thank you…”

His little speech was hesitant and inarticulate and didn’t convey half of the things that he wanted to tell her, but she had to know how much the last days had meant to him.

“I didn’t just do it for Neal and Emma,” Belle said quietly, not quite meeting his eyes. “Although I was happy to help out. I just… hated the way we parted… We had something so good and it ended so badly… I’m glad we had this week to… change that ending…”

Tears stung his eyes at her words, torn between gratitude and agony. Grateful because at least they could end like this, with an honest conversation and a handful of beautiful memories to help him though the final heartbreak.  
Anguish because despite everything, they were still ending it. Even if she forgave him for what he’d done, even if she was no longer angry with him, they still won’t be together anymore.

“I’m so sorry for what I did, Belle,” he told her, his voice broken.

And for the first time he truly meant it. Before he’d felt sorry for losing her and for the pain he’d caused her, but now he felt truly sorry for what he had done to her.

“If I could take it back… undo what I did… I would… whatever the price would be. You are right, we had something good… even more than that… we had something that was more beautiful, more precious than I could ever dream of… and I didn’t dare to believe it… so I ruined it… and for as long as I live I shall regret that bitterly…”

His voice gave out as his throat choked with unshed tears. “I’m so sorry, Belle…”

“I know you are,” her tone was soothing and the hand that cupped his jaw was warm and comforting. His eyes, that he’d kept downcast when he spoke the words shot up to find her looking at him with a tender smile, her eyes spilling over with tears of her own.

Before he could apologize for upsetting her once more, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into a hug.  
 “I know you are sorry and I know you were afraid… I guess I just never realized how deep those fears ran.”

He fled into her embrace, his arms coming up around her back to hold her close, as close as she would let him. She was granting him one last beautiful moment, one last chance to hold her and he was determined to soak up as much of it as he could, even as her words pierced through him like a blade would.  She understood him better than anyone ever had and he was a fool for losing her.  
With his face pressed against her throat, he breathed in her scent until his head swam, shuddering when he felt her small hands move from his shoulders, up into his hair to stroke the longer strands.

“Rum…” she murmured quietly, pulling back slightly and he made a strangled, anxious noise of protest. He wasn’t ready to let her go just yet. Not ever, but certainly not right now.

She made soft, soothing noises as she pressed her lips against his cheek and he whimpered, desperately trying to pull himself together, to ease his death grip on her waist and to force himself to put some distance between them.  
To stop himself from taking what he was no longer entitled to. She was leaving him with more than he ever deserved, but she was leaving him and it was finally time he did the proper thing and let her go.

But when her soft lips brushed the corner of his mouth, his self-control staggered and despite his best intentions, his hands tightened on her waist, pulling her still closer against him.  
Moments later her lips covered his and the last of his restraint snapped. Capturing her bottom lip between his, he sucked frantically, his tongue begging for entrance to her mouth.

Somewhere at the back of his head a voice was screaming at him to pull back, to end this madness, to stop ruining once again his last chance at a civil, amiable parting, but he lacked the power to heed that warning.  
Belle was in his arms, soft, warm and alive. She was pressed against him, her hands carding through his hair and her nails softly scraping his scalp, responding to his kisses with equal enthusiasm, her lips parting under his mouth, her tongue dancing with his.

She tasted like tea and heaven. She tasted like happiness and love. She tasted like home and he greedily lapped at her, drowning himself in this last taste of real joy.

With his arms wrapped securely around her, he tried to hold her as close as possible, trying to mold her body into his own.

If he just held on to her, if he just kept kissing her he wouldn’t have to let her go.

When she eventually pulled back, her breathing ragged and shaking slightly he fought down the wave of panic that welled up inside him. She had given more than he ever deserved, with her understanding, her forgiveness and these final, wonderful moments and now he had to accept the consequences of his failure.

Instead of pulling back completely, she snuggled against his side, resting her head on his shoulder for a moment and his treacherous arms remained firmly locked around her, savoring the last seconds in which he’d got to hold her.

“You have to promise me one thing…” her quiet, breathless voice was slightly muffled because she was still pressing her face against the soft material of his suit jacket.

“What’s that?” he asked automatically, still dazed from their kiss and their impending parting.

“Promise me that you’ll never try to decide what’s best for me again,” she said firmly, lifting her head to meet his eyes. “I mean it, Rumford. Stop shutting me out and we can be together.”

He gaped at her, his mouth hanging open, his mind refusing to make sense of her words. She couldn’t possibly mean them. She couldn’t possibly be giving him another chance. His heart raced and his skin tingled and for a wild, ridiculous moment he thought he was having another heart-attack, but when he managed to draw a deep, albeit shuddering breath he realized that wasn’t the case.

 _“Belle?”_ he eventually croaked hoarsely.

“Unless you don’t want that of course…” her hopeful expression fell and she drew back a little. “Only I got the impression that you might…”

 _“Sweetheart!”_ The endearment tore from his throat and he grabbed for her blindly, crushing her to his chest. He still couldn’t fully comprehend her words, still didn’t dare to believe them to be truth, but she was clinging onto him as much as he was clinging onto her and suddenly the dam broke.

“I love you, Belle… I love you so much sweetheart… I thought that this past week was only a last taste of happiness with you… and I tried to be strong enough to let you go… but I can’t. I meant what I said in the hospital… I need you… you’re my strength.”

Tender, gentle hands caressed the side of his face and she kissed him lovingly.  
“You really didn’t know?” she asked disbelievingly. “I thought I was getting pretty obvious as the week wore on.”

Resting against the back of the sofa, he pulled her with him until she was sitting in his lap, curled up in his arms.  “You made it rather clear in the hospital that you thought we were over,” he said quietly.  
“After that I could scarcely believe you wanted to spend a week with me… I didn’t dare to hope for more.

“Last week I was still angry with you,” she informed him. “But more importantly, I was worried sick about you. You just had a heart-attack! I thought I was going to lose you and I couldn’t bear it. I was happy to help Neal and Emma out, but that wasn’t why I offered. I just wanted to remain close to you… I wanted to know if we still had a chance.”

“I had no idea…” he confessed, daring to press a soft kiss against her brow and feeling incredibly relieved when she only snuggled into him closer.  
“I believed you didn’t love me anymore.”

“Rum…” She sat up so she could look him in the eye, her hands gripping his shoulders. “I _love_ you. I never stopped loving you, no matter how hurt and angry I was.”

Her eyes searched his face and apparently she found something because slumped against, resting her forehead against his.  
“You really would have done it, wouldn’t you?” she asked quietly. “You would never have said a word about how you feel and you would have let me go because you believed that’s what I wanted.”

“I didn’t want to pressure you,” he whispered back, his heart racing. “You deserve to be happy.”

“Rumford, you’re _such_ an _idiot!”_ she scolded exasperated. The hands that slid in his hair to pull his head closer once more belied her admonishing tone and he all but sagged against her in relief.

“Stop being so damn noble,” she told him, her breath ghosting over his lip, until his head went almost blank with longing for her. “Stop assuming what I want. Just ask me.”

“What do you want?” he rasped, his hands moving up and down over her warm body, familiarizing himself with her curves again.

“I want us to try again,” she said eagerly. “I want us to talk this time… eventually I want to come back to Storybooke again and be with you… I have a life in Boston now and I can’t just drop everything and return straight away, but one day I want to do just that. I want us to grow old together and have Henry calling me grandma for the rest of my life…”

He chuckled breathlessly at that, stealing a chaste kiss from her lips. She was offering him a world of happiness, a happily ever after that far surpassed his own, must ludicrous dreams. It wouldn’t be easy.

They still had issues to work through and for the foreseeable future she was stuck in Boston so they couldn’t be together as much as they wanted to. But as long as she loved him, as long as she was willing to give him another chance, he felt like he could conquer the world.

“I want that too, sweetheart,” he answered hoarsely. “I can change… It won’t be easy perhaps, but I love you more than anything in the world… and I want us to try…”

A stark realization swept over him as he said those words, making him hold his breath.  
He couldn’t give her any guarantees. This wasn’t anything he could fix of arrange for her. At the end of the day he had nothing more to offer her than his love and would only that be enough?

A warm, happy smile blossomed over her face. “I love you too and we’ll make it. Everything will be all right, you’ll see,” she said, filled with confidence.

She was astonishing and absolutely fearless and he vowed to himself that he would fight every single hour of every single day to be worthy of her faith in him.

Her hands in his hair pulled his head down for another kiss and with a happy sigh he surrendered to her, for the first time well and truly believing their ending would be a happy one.


End file.
